There is a subtle difference between a predator and a parasite. The most effective parasites are those that inflict the least amount of harm to their victims, even going so far as to benefit the organism they inhabit, for if the host dies, so too does the parasite. Likewise, a predator cannot thrive without an abundant population to feed upon. But is it really the ostensible king of the jungle who makes the decisions? Or rather the herd who chooses who lives, and who dies? Where and when?
The sheep flourish anywhere lush and verdant, traveling to greener pastures as they please, leaving entire ecosystems devoured in their wake. Whereas the carnivorous shepherd must follow where ever they lead. The sheep can survive without the shepherd, but the shepherd cannot survive without the sheep. So who really pulls the strings in this twisted symbiosis?
The predator? The prey? Or the parasite?
Speaking of which, my roommate Melissa slammed the door to her room after having just awoken at one in the afternoon. "Fuck it's hot today!" She exclaimed. Her skin clung to the soaked fabric of one of my many T-shirts she would swipe from my laundry to use as pajamas. Blatantly designed to fit a man of my build, she filled out the garment as more of a dress with her full yet abbreviated frame.
"Yeah, the weatherman said that it's going to be like this all week." I commented.
Summers in the mid-west are notoriously hot and muggy. At this time of year, the humidity hits like a wall of torrid steam any time one has the misfortune of leaving the safety of an air conditioned room, and our air conditioner had been broken since a demon had chucked our couch through the wall.
Damage from the incident still lingered around the apartment. Cracks and indents had been lazily plastered over, and crews worked around the building daily to repair the masonry. The giant hole had diminished as they made progress, but they still had two windows to reframe, and it would be a while before the living room was no longer subject to the elements.
"Fuck that shit." My roommate grumbled as she stripped the shirt off and carelessly tossed it across the room.
I had been doing my best to repair the air conditioner, as indicated by the many pieces strewn across the kitchen floor, but we'd been forced to resort to other methods of staying cool in the mean time. From the day I met her, my roommate hadn't been one for wearing an abundance of clothes. But after we'd gotten more accustomed to each other's company, she dropped any pretense of wearing clothes altogether.
I was not so bold as to go completely nude, but as the unrelenting heatwave continued, I found myself wearing less as well, and my boxer shorts did little to hide the increasing interest of my twitching member as I unabashedly observed the naked woman strolling around the house.
Her hips swayed as she traversed the living room, her ass wiggling to a halt as she rudely stopped in front of me, blocking my view of the TV with her mountainous squish-cushion.
"I don't get it, if Mulder consistently fails to prove that the monsters even exist, why does he still have a job?" She commented on the television program she was so inconsiderately interrupting.
Unable to see the screen, I turned my focus to the bountiful mass of feminine flesh in my face, and absent mindedly groped it while responding inattentively. "Just because he can't prove that they do exist, doesn't mean that Skully can prove that they don't exist." I explained as I slipped my cock out through the fly hole.
"I don't buy it, what kind of idiots believe in monsters?" Said the woman who dealt with monsters on a regular basis.
Taking a moment to think about it, I irreverently jiggled her ample booty while considering my answer. "Maybe they don't really believe, but when you are constantly exposed to the evidence, it becomes impossible to not question the things you previously thought of as fact." I answered from experience, giving her a wet slap on the ass for emphasis as I lazily stroked myself.
Some people would ask permission before treating a woman's intimate regions so disrespectfully, or at least hesitate to be so forward. But with Melissa, I was more afraid of what she would do if I wavered. She had a high standard for the men she slept with, and expected complete and utter dominance from them. Anything less was an insult, and she had threatened to kill me for less on more than one occasion. I wasn't about to defy her wishes.
I stood up and used my superior strength and advanced stature to forcefully bend her over the ottomon, roughly slamming her into the greasy black leather. She caved and surrendered to my every push and shove in a display of docile submission, but never for a moment was it unclear who was really in control here.
Between her trusty dagger, pet monster, and power to open the gates of hell in the palm of her hand, my continued existence among the living was conditional on whether she thought it was worth keeping me around or not. A saner man would have left a long time ago, and while I haven't exactly been stable since the accident, I had my reasons for not running away.
Speaking of which, one of those reasons was sopping in anticipation at about waist level. It was clear from her arousal that she had been preparing for this.
Despite all of its downsides, living with Melissa allowed, no, required access to her vagina at all times. She wordlessly commanded sexual attention and frequent penetration when ever I was available. Fortunately, her body was undeniably provocative of such attentions. Shapely and voluptuous, her body ceaselessly perspired in the endless heatwave, releasing a relentless invisible miasma of that sweet siren smell.
I know it sounds stupid to stay in such an obviously dangerous situation just for some pussy, but as my hands fit perfectly upon her rounded hips and pulled her drenching pit of fury and passion onto my aching groin, I found it difficult to regret the bad decisions that brought me here.
She moaned shamelessly as I pumped and pulled. It was fortunate that all of our neighbors had evacuated the building, because she had quite a set of lungs and a dirty mouth to go with it. Her ass rippled and shook as I vigorously thrusted into her. Her pussy gushed sexual fluids down my shaft, dripping from my balls onto the carpet. Her condensed stature was reflected internally in a grip that was soft but tight. It had been intense for me at first, and took some getting used to. But now I'd had plenty of time to familiarize myself with it, meeting her demands multiple times daily and slowly acclimating myself to the pain. Alas the absence of that pain left me with little distraction from the vaginal might hungrily tugging at me.
Feeling my climax approaching all too soon, I looked around the room for help. Glancing at the hole in the wall, I noticed one of the workers quietly watching us while leveling the masonry.
The aforementioned crews had been working on the wall for more than a week. I'd gotten so used to having strangers staring into our living room, that I'd totally forgotten they were there.
I'd come quite a way from peeking through a keyhole while fapping behind my door, to having other men lustily observing my exploits with vivid interest. I could feel the young man's furtive gaze drifting across our bodies as he wiped the sweat of work on a hot day from his face. He shifted uncomfortably at the graphic spectacle in front of him.
I considered stopping, but I feared disappointing Melissa substantially more than I feared making this poor man feel awkward, so the fucking continued.
He was visibly blushing as he tried to avoid eye contact with me, but could not keep himself from looking away. He fidgeted and twitched as his imagination ran wild. I wondered if he found himself wishing to switch places. To take those bronze, firm arms of his, sculpted and burned from days of hard labor in the sun, and grip her lavish hips, desperately inserting his quivering member deep within her ravenous confines. Just like I was now.
